


What it's Like to Wake Up

by skiesinlove



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Post-Canon, So there you go, The ask was "should involve a tree somehow", Tumblr Prompt, domestic as hell, post-reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skiesinlove/pseuds/skiesinlove
Summary: The city didn’t suit Nezumi. He wasn’t made for towers of concrete and glass, people fussing about their dry-clean-only shirts and throwing their dinner scraps into the garbage. That wasn’t a life he knew nor wanted. Which was fine; if Shion had the choice, he would have left the city and never looked back (except for an occasional visit to his poor mother, of course). He couldn’t leave, though, and Nezumi had insisted he wasn’t going to either. Not again, not without Shion next time.





	What it's Like to Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> A request by [secretagentfan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/secretagentfan)for my 500 follower special. Hopefully it hits all the right points???

Waking up to an empty bed had become Shion’s routine. He thought things might be different when Nezumi came back to him—when they’d spent that first night curled tightly around one another, alternating between weeping and bringing their lips together over and over again. 

One thought that kept him going during the time that Nezumi was gone was the thought of sharing a bed with him once again. After becoming accustomed to the of feeling Nezumi’s warmth pressed firmly against his body, his huge bed felt more like an open nerve, leaving him exposed and hypersensitive to every flutter of cold hair that wafted through his open window. He’d bundle himself up in his blankets and tuck his pillow into his chest and imagined he could feel Nezumi’s heart beating. 

It helped. It wasn’t a substitute for the real thing, but it helped.

So when Nezumi returned, and it seemed like a given that they’d be sharing a bed again, Shion was so overjoyed he’d practically attached himself like a lamprey to Nezumi that night. And the night after. And for several subsequent days.

After a few weeks, however, Shion found himself waking to an empty bed again. The first time this happened, Shion damn near lost his mind to panic, searching and yelling frantically for a Nezumi he’d assumed to be long gone. He was waiting, honestly waiting, for Nezumi to disappear in the middle of the night again, so it hadn’t been a  _ surprise _ exactly, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

He’d found him, though. After nearly two hours of searching around their apartment, then out on the streets of the city, he’d found him.

So when Shion woke to that very Nezumi-less space now, it was a routine that wasn’t nearly as terrifying. Sometimes he was even able to go back to sleep. Other times, he was too restless, too nervous to even close his eyes again.

But he knew where to find him now.

The city didn’t suit Nezumi. He wasn’t made for towers of concrete and glass, people fussing about their dry-clean-only shirts and throwing their dinner scraps into the garbage. That wasn’t a life he knew nor wanted. Which was fine; if Shion had the choice, he would have left the city and never looked back (except for an occasional visit to his poor mother, of course). He couldn’t leave, though, and Nezumi had insisted he wasn’t going to either. Not again, not without Shion next time.

His dissonance with the city made him restless, though. Hence the disappearing in the middle of the night. But he’d found himself a place that made him feel a bit more at home.

It wasn’t far from the apartment. Shion found him when he’d heard a familiar, lilting melody—soft and gravelly and carrying on the wind through their open window. Nezumi always left the window open when he left.

There was a tree in one of the few open fields left right on the outskirts of the city. A figure with hair to match the dusk pulled into a loose bun leaned against the trunk, face turned upward at the moon. He sang in a language Shion didn’t understand, but it was so beautiful he didn’t care. His voice always reminded Shion of that first storm that had brought the two of them together: rolling between a bass from deep within his chest like peals of thunder, and higher, more throaty notes like a chorus of rain.

Shion watched him sing from a few feet away, not wanting to disturb him, not needing anything but the sound of his voice. He lost track of the time as he listened to the music and felt it swelling in his chest, filling him.

The way the moonlight highlighted all of the sharp angles of Nezumi’s face, the way it sparkled through some of the strands of Nezumi’s dark hair like the night sky was trapped there, the way he looked so at ease and so  _ peaceful _ , was perfect. Shion didn’t need anything else. However uncomfortable Nezumi might have been with his newly artificial, relatively luxurious lifestyle, he seemed more at ease now than Shion had ever seen him.

“Do you need something, Majesty?” Nezumi asked, pulling Shion back to earth. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there before the music tapered off into the hushed noises of the night.

“No,” Shion said. “I just wanted to listen.”

“You’re a restless sleeper,” Nezumi noted without turning around. “You follow me out here often, you know.”

“Is that bad?”

Nezumi’s face turned ever so slightly, eyes sliding from the moon onto Shion’s face. The corner of his mouth twitched upward affectionately.

“I don’t mind. But a princeling needs his sleep if he is to properly oversee his kingdom, don’t you think?” Nezumi chuckled and so did Shion, who walked over to join Nezumi by the tree. 

“I’ll be fine,” Shion said, coming to rest his chin on Nezumi’s shoulder. He wound his arms around Nezumi’s middle and breathed deep, Nezumi’s sharp, tangy scent filling him past full.

Nezumi reached behind him to run his fingers through Shion’s hair. “You work too damn much to come out with my every night, Shion. You need sleep.”

“I'll be  _ fine _ ,” Shion insisted. 

Nezumi let out a little “tsk” of irritation, but he didn’t argue. He continued to run his fingers through Shion’s hair, scratching his scalp, his hands gentle and kind. Shion sighed contentedly, lips coming to press against Nezumi’s neck. He kissed from the bottom of Nezumi’s ear to the junction of his shoulder. His kisses elicited the most wonderful little rumbles of satisfaction from Nezumi’s chest.

“What were you singing?” Shion mumbled into Nezumi’s skin. 

“Hmmm?”

“Before, when I got here. It wasn’t something I’ve heard before.”

“Oh,” Nezumi said, swirling his finger around the crown of Shion’s head. “It’s something my grandmother taught me. The language is extinct now.”

“What’s it about?” Shion asked.

“Ah,” Nezumi said, and Shion saw his smile widen even more. “It’s a love song.”

Shion smiled against the back of Nezumi’s neck. 

“Keep singing?” Shion requested.

“Anything for you, Majesty.”

Nezumi’s voice picked up once more, reverberating through his lungs, humming through his back and against Shion’s chest. It carried on the silent night air, coiling through the darkness until the dark ambiance of night was saturated with it. It was like an insoluble solution trickling its way down Shion’s spine: liquid smooth but a little raspy, a little raw and so indisputably  _ real  _ Shion wondered how he’d survived the years without it.

Nezumi continued to run his fingers through Shion’s hair, periodically pausing his singing to crane his neck and kiss Shion’s cheek. It was peaceful and perfect.

Shion’s eyes began to flutter shut. Nezumi’s singing was rocking his exhausted body to sleep. When he began to slump forward, breath beginning to slow, Nezumi poked him in the side to jolt him back to life.

“Come on. Let’s get you home, you sleepy idiot,” he said, but the words had no bite when they were laced with so much affection.

They walked home, hand-in-hand, Nezumi gently teasing Shion about the dopey grin plastered onto his face. He couldn’t be bothered, though. Nezumi’s knowing hands, calloused and warm in his own, were too perfect. 

Shion would never say it, but he secretly loved these nights. Granted, it was bliss to wake up beside Nezumi, proving that Nezumi was now very much so his to enjoy and love, but this was nice too. He liked these stolen hours that passed quietly between Nezumi and that tree and the sky. He liked seeing Nezumi so in his element and content. He liked knowing that even though Nezumi was restless, he’d found a home here in the city with Shion.

He liked knowing that he could always find Nezumi now. He didn’t have to wait for him to come back home. 

Yeah. Shion didn’t really mind waking up to an empty bed at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [tumblr](http://skiesinlove.tumblr.com) for more quality garbage :D


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